Flash mob a frantic cherry-dipped oil slick
Pardon me, sir
But your fly is unzipped
Deeply offended
The ‘sir’ offered
To sock me in the lip
I responded in kind
We swung at the same time
Bottom line ~
Our teeth now
Like ‘pearls dipped in swine’
Fourth Shard
I need to clean
Who’s gonna clean?
What do I do?
I can not move
I’m tired
I need to rest
Five minutes
Please
I’m tired
I need to rest
Please be quiet
I’m trying to rest
Shhhhh
Just five minutes
I’ll clean in five minutes
I need rest
Rest
Mindwipe
My childhood was tainted in a single moment
In an instant
It happened so fast
And unable to go back
Turn back time
To change that very
Moment
Third Shard
But black
I could clearly see where the past dried
And the new began
I need to clean this dried blood
Before more comes
Damage control
Before I could even
I collapse
I’ve lost too much
I can’t move
What’s happening ?
What do I do ?
I need to clean
“There’s nothing left.”
With the strength I have left
I take a large shard of glass
And cut my forearm
No red
I cut again
Nothing
I cut again
And again
And again
Nothing
There’s nothing left
But scars
A shell
Second Shard
Shattered glass dipped in red
I forget about the glass
And begin to clean the blood
And that stings too
Causing more
And more
And more
It won’t stop
First the time of the past
Then shattered glass
Then blood
Then shattered glass dipped in red
And more blood
When will it stop?
I don’t know what to do
What do I do?
Everything I do makes it worse
I’m trying to clean
I’m trying to make it better
Nothing is working
What do I do?!
I finally stop trying
I lay in my pool of blood and glass
Staring into the black abyss
Feeling my shattered glass dipped in red surround me
“Be still” echos through the space
I lay there
Quiet
Not moving an inch
Staring blankly
Who’s going to clean ?
There’s glass everywhere
I need to clean
And I began to clean again
Picking up the shattered glass
Cutting my hands
Ignoring the blood coming from them
My mind fills with blood again
Filling up
I begin to notice the past was no longer red
First Shard
My childhood was tainted in a single moment
In an instant
It happened so fast
And unable to go back
Turn back time
To change that moment
To continue the purity
For the purity to last all through my childhood
Giving it no room for flaws
Maybe then my adulthood could be saved
Saved from the filth from the past
Maybe then my life wouldn’t be burdened In such a way
Fill my child self with other issues to carry
Because these,
Right now,
Is too much?
Mind broken
Like glass that was shattered
Pieces scattered throughout my mind
Cutting my delicate fingers as I try to pick up the pieces
The smallest pieces I can hardly see are what hurt the most
They catch me by surprise
It stings
But yet I continue to clean the mess
The mess I did not make
When I get close to being done
The ones I can not see sting
I frantically search for what seems to be invisible pieces
Bleeding more and more
Forgetting I am bleeding
No
Ignoring I am bleeding
Because the mess needs to be cleaned
It needs to be spotless
But now a new mess arises
I take notice to the blood that has filled my mind
And now
Another mess to be cleaned
Blood
Everywhere
She had wanted to go the beach
And yet, she was scheduled to teach
Her swimsuit had ripped
So she skinny-dipped
Could this be a test of free speech?
"Hieronymus Dipped"
The neurochip sucked me like a lollipop ... mind first into the dream,
squeezed my thoughts out like tubes of candy coloured toothpaste
all over the deus ex machina, Hieronymus dipped his brush in
an attempt
to artificially convert me
call it, a “do-over”
I was his primary binary by all accounts
he liked my shades of light and dark
he led me further in,
This he painted on my tongue, “You a muse”
“me?”, I said
He tut-tutted, exasperated
to be exchanging such inane pleasantries,
“this could take some time to complete, I see.”
“how so?”, I smiled
“Dali expects a masterpiece,
and with you in mind,
this will never be...
no easy dream.”
Candide Diderot. ‘24
White foam crashes with memories of conversations here, an awful date there;
welcoming steam floats around work deadlines, lecture notes and scrawls.
Cupped hands warm around porcelain gossips with friends,
secrets crumbling like biscuits dipped, as thoughts are awash
with scents from a city café then and a train station dash back when.
That brown bitter liquor lazing - regal, rustic,
the foreign familiar that can cleanse chaotic hours had.
“I’m sorry I complained. I just like it made a certain way.”
- breath by breath and sip by sip, clink by clink and stir by stir -
but what I really meant was, well...
“I come here for the company of strangers.
The whirring of machines and the babble and the bustle
of a place, less empty than home.”
I dipped my finger in the rose, then began to smell it,
A fragrance sweet, a story untold, in petals delicate.
Each petal whispered secrets, a garden's hidden lore,
In nature's fragrant symphony, I found myself explore.
With colors bright and vivid, the bloom did softly sway,
A dance of life and beauty, in the golden light of day.
A gentle breeze embraced me, as I inhaled its grace,
In that fleeting, fragrant moment, I found a sacred space.
So I dipped my finger in the rose, and life's mysteries unfurled,
In the scent of nature's poetry, I found a tranquil world.
walking alone with my memories and a tearstained heart
watching the water and thinking about Her
there is nobody here and the chill and the quiet is a perfect combination
the makeshift Christmas tree on the sand makes me laugh for short spell
wishes and regrets then creep up on me and steal me again
i am on spaghetti legs but remain Bountifully Blessed
the water senses my level of unbalance and doctors me back straight
i walk along and reminisce about the company that now dwells in heaven
the skies are blue and the sun is elated
despite the wind being unforgiving, i feel its guaranteed embrace
so many songs pop into my head
i am a snaggletoothed little boy again, impatient and full of energy
i hear you now firmly telling me to go and unpack
now i hear no voices
now i am forever wounded due to my choices
nevertheless i have maternal healing hands that are Heavenly Dipped and Infinitely Divine to reassure me
my walk becomes more confidently erect
my heart beats with pride and valor, pumping the tearstains away
It was the war of the cookies, battle lines were fiercely drawn
Dipped versus no dip, diagonal frosting turned on
Sprinkles versus non-sprinkles, arguments about a treat
Dipped cookies bringing in generals, all kinds of heat.
Pure breads adamantly denying that icing was any good.
Causing a huge daily skirmish in our confectionary neighborhood.
Semi sweet but your rough is just right,
as I turn to you holding that strawberry;
Dripping with romance you whisper little morsels
in my ears,
it makes my lips quiver in anticipation
of your taste;
Those sugar filled kisses;
Candles bathe your smile in a soft glow
you melt me excruciatingly slow;
I can feel everything so bitter
come undone as you hold me in your arms ;
Released you and I are finally free to just be,
and believe in the magic of this love story;
You be my chocolate strawberries
dipped in romance,
I’ll be your Happily Ever After.
Things pretty seldom linked are to money,
And mature like a vintage wine,
Whilst memories mount dipped in pure honey,
Most things are seldom allied to money.
Vintage wine! Older get, get more divine,
Today’s coal is morrow’s diamond mine,
Things pretty seldom are linked to money,
And mature like a vintage wine.
_______________________________________
Reflections |06.10.2019| Triolet
I writ a poem
of broken lines
in muddled thoughts
where nothing rhymes
considered throwing in some chimes
from reminiscent olden times
reached into the “poignant” pail
dug out the sadness of “sublimes”.
I dipped the pen in barren well
denied of stories it could tell
pictured how the empires fell
beneath the hate of brimstone’s smell
wondered how I came to dwell
in poetry’s rekindled hell.
I clawed the crimson charcoal crust
bore the pain of writing’s thrust
became the fire of its lust
engulfed in flame the pages trust
then sprinkled it with living’s dust.
John G. Lawless
©7/4/2021
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